


Drive

by paulmcfartney



Category: McLennon - Fandom, The Beatles
Genre: M/M, my! boys! are! smoochin!
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2018-01-11
Updated: 2018-01-11
Packaged: 2019-03-03 08:29:41
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,609
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/13337340
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/paulmcfartney/pseuds/paulmcfartney
Summary: Paul and John go on a drive after John gets his driver's license. Little did they know that their feelings for each other would finally come out.





	Drive

It all felt surreal. The wind flowing through the older man's golden brown locks made Paul take quick glances at the ecstatic man at the wheel to his right. 'How can one person be so astonishingly beautiful?' Paul silently thought to himself, trying to focus his eyes on the road ahead of them, just in case John would have a problem.

John had just passed his driving test and, out of impulse, bought his first car only hours later. It was amusing for Paul to see his best friend so excited about all of this. The glint in John's eyes was absolutely priceless, and in this moment, Paul couldn't have asked for anything better.

The windows of the blue Ferrari were the whole way down, with the older man cheerfully howling out the words of a song from the Rolling Stones' new record. They were flying down a winding road in Esher, somewhere near George's newly-bought home. John's hand rested daintily on the gear shift, leaving Paul to wonder how his friend would react if he were to slide a hand over his.

"Paul?" John questioned, bringing the other man out of his thoughts. Eyes not straying from the pavement, John waved a hand in front of the pair of doe eyes he'd secretly adored. "Wake up, Mr. McCartney, I thought that you were my co-pilot for this little expedition of ours!" Paul huffed. "Don't call me that, it makes me feel like da'." He could see that familiar warm twinkle in John's eyes through the thick lenses of his glasses as he grinned. Inevitably, a smile crept across the younger man's face, and he was almost certain that a slight blush had stained his cheeks. Trying to avert attention away from his incredibly flushed face, he questioned, "Where are we going anyway?"

John shrugged. "Did we ever decide on a destination, love?" Paul's mind melted at the sound of his friend calling him such a simple yet intimate name- God, was he fucked. "Jesus mate, are you alright?" They went around a sharp turn, John attempting to slow down a bit for his passenger. "You look like you're about to be sick, and so help me, if you have a fit in this car I'll-"

"I'm fine, really. It's just that your driving's so bloody atrocious that it's making me anxious," Paul giggled out, causing his friend to scoff and take his hand off the gear shift, only to give Paul a playful slap on the wrist. To Paul, the touch felt electric. This sort of thing was normal; John would poke and prod at Paul, and Paul knowing that he definitely shouldn't be feeling these things for his best friend. Though, he didn't know that this was always happening because John was itching to find an excuse to touch Paul. Even the slightest brush of a finger would set his skin on fire.

John tried to keep his eyes on the road, but his mind was inevitably focused on the sickly-looking passenger to his left. He'd seen Paul that pale before, and what had immediately followed that one time hadn't been pretty, considering that they'd eaten jam and toast only minutes before. "Alright," John said, almost to himself, and slowed the car down, pulling to the side of the road. A confused Paul found John's eyes, eyebrows furrowed, with his cheeks no longer a porcelain white, but a deep shade of crimson. "Why'd you stop?" Paul questioned, trying desperately to find somewhere to fix his eyes other than the alluring man in front of him. They were now facing each other entirely, chests merely inches apart. Paul could now clearly see the auburn bangs that dusted the older man's forehead and ended, God help him, right above his signature thick-rimmed glasses.

"Because you look right sick and if you don't get out of this car right now and get some goddamn fresh fucking air, I'll push you out myself!" John tried to sound stern, but he couldn't help but smile and laugh at the thought of yelling even the slightest at the person he loved the most. It was impossible. "Christ Paul, the last time I saw you this pale, your lunch made an encore appearance on your shoes." Paul tried desperately to keep himself from leaning in and closing the almost painful gap between them. He didn't realize until now how much he yearned for those thin, but still managing to be luscious, lips to be lightly pressed to his in a passionate kiss.

He almost didn't realize that he had begun to lean in towards John until it was too late. Before he knew it, his forehead had made contact with the other man's, heat radiating off of the two of them in the cool English afternoon sun. John was taken aback by Paul's sudden movement. 'Maybe this is just another cruel dream,' the older man thought as their noses brushed gently. It felt as if he were about to have a heart attack, and he prayed to something that Paul couldn't hear the heavy beating coming from his chest.

Luckily for John, Paul couldn't hear his friend's heart over the blaring sound of his own. And when John placed a gentle hand on his cheek, he was one hundred percent sure that he'd died and gone off to heaven. It was an otherworldly experience, like the clouds had suddenly opened up and all of his sorrows were far behind. Paul finally built up the courage to look John in the eye, only to find that he wasn't even looking back at him, but at the floor instead.  
"John," Paul gulped and he could swear that he felt John shiver against him. Amidst John's heightened breathing, he managed to get out a weak "Yeah," in response. 'Christ, this definitely has to be a dream,' John thought to himself. 'There's absolutely no way-'

"John," Paul repeated, more urgently than before, and slid a shaky, yet careful hand to the nape of John's neck. He didn't even realize that he'd leaned in just the slightest bit until he'd felt John's thin lips on his. It was nothing like Paul had ever experienced before. His heart had gone into overdrive, and he didn't know if he would be able to handle it. Eight long years he'd yearned for this to happen, and thank God it had. He savored it for a moment and had finally closed his eyes until he noticed that John wasn't kissing back. Paul wasn't at all expecting his friend to reciprocate the kiss even in the slightest, but there he was, losing himself in the feeling of John right there against him.

It wasn't that John didn't want to kiss back, but that he was in complete and utter shock that the doe-eyed boy, his best mate since he was sixteen, was pressed flush against him, pink lips gliding effortlessly over his. So he was frozen in his seat, hand still on Paul's round cheek, not knowing what the hell he was going to do next. The younger man pulled away slowly. He couldn't bear to pull his eyes up to look at John, afraid of his response and unable to face the seemingly inevitable rejection that ensued. As Paul was about to get out of the car and just walk to George's himself, John brought another hand to his friend's face and brushed the hair out of his eyes, almost forcing the younger man to look straight at him. Their eyes locked, and for a moment, Paul felt like he was going to burst out into tears like some emotional poof. John had that look in his eyes that Paul had definitely seen before, namely when he would look at him, but even more pronounced than previous times. He knew what John was thinking, but he needed to hear it for himself.

In an instant, their lips were pressed together a second time, this time by John pulling Paul in by the unmoved hand on his slightly stubbly cheek. For the second time that day, John had felt like weeping. He had just gotten the validation that he had tirelessly looked for for almost eight years, the confirmation that Paul loved him, or had feelings for him at the least. God, for nearly a decade, John would constantly have to tell himself that his feelings for this boy were absolutely positively wrong, and that Paul would never in a million years turn queer for a chubby bloke like him. Yet, here they were, shamelessly snogging in a car on the side of the road.

John pulled away for a moment, almost having to gasp for air, as somewhere along the line, the kiss had turned heated and urgent. "I-I love you, you anxious git," he choked out, immediately realizing what he had just said. A shiver ran down Paul's spine at John's sudden confession. He'd finally done it. Paul placed another chaste kiss on his lips, but soon pulled him in closer with the remaining hand on the back of his neck. "Love you too...So much," he whispered lowly in between kisses.

And so, in yet another tale of the classic saying, good things come to those who wait, John drove the pair back to their friend's house, hearts bursting with their newly confessed love for one another. John's hand was instinctively positioned on the gear shift, but Paul didn't mind. All he had to do was gently rest his palm on top of John's, squeezing occasionally, just to let him know that he wouldn't be getting rid of him anytime soon.


End file.
